A Hungry Silence
by sweet-sue-sparrow
Summary: Castiel felt as if he had become a burden to the Winchesters ever since he lost his grace. Finally, he takes matters into his own hands. Alone, without friends or money, Cas tries to scrape by by hunting on his own. Dean tries as best he can to track down his friend before he does something stupid and gets himself killed.
1. Chapter 1

Castiel sat and listened to the silence. He could feel the breath slide between his lips, but the sound was eaten by the darkness. Outside, the snowy ghosts of trees stood like pillars lining the road.

"Dean?" His voice, little more than a whisper, cut too loud through the quiet.

"What?" The hunter sounded irritated, not that that was new. Cas had gotten the sense, ever since he'd lost his grace, that he was only just being tolerated. He had outlived his usefulness to the Winchesters and though neither brother would say it outright, they had their ways of letting him know.

"Dean, could you, pull over for a moment?"

"Why?"

"I need to relieve myself."

"Jesus Cas, are you serious?"

"Please, Dean, it's urgent. I'm human you know, I have needs."

"But do you _need_ to take care of it right now?"

Sam sighed in his sleep.

"Yes Dean, I do."

The car veered suddenly to the shoulder, slammed to a stop, shaking Sam from his sleep.

"Wh- what's going on?" He muttered.

"Cas just discovered his bladder."

"I'm sorry Dean-" Castiel began.

"Whatever," Dean muttered, "Just get out and do your business."

Cas obeyed. He opened the door and stepped out into the biting cold. He felt cold now. As he unzipped his fly and did what he'd set out to do, he tried to ignore the icy needles that seemed to be stabbing at every inch of him.

He finished, climbed into the back sea of the Impala.

"Finished?" Dean's voice was a knife blade.

"Yes." Castiel settled into his seat.

"Good. Now try and get some sleep, somebody should." The car started up again and soon they were back on the road, the eastern horizon already touched with grey.

After some hours the silence got to be too much. Sam still slept in his seat, his heavy breathing the only sound save the rumbling of the tires on the uneven highway. The sun was beginning to rise over the tops of the trees, its bloody birth lit the whole snowy world in shades of red.

"Dean?" His voice was low, almost inaudible.

"What is it Cas? Don't tell me you have to use the bathroom again."

Part of him wanted to point out that there had been no bath and no room where he had satisfied that need before. "No," was all he said.

"Then what now? You hungry? Bored? 'Cause I'm not in the mood to hear it right now Cas, in case you didn't notice I've been driving all damn night."

"Dean, I think maybe I should leave."

"What?" This was almost a laugh.

"I think maybe I should-"

"Damn it Cas! I heard you the first time, but why? What's got you spewing this crap?"

Castiel looked down at his hands. He thought about the past couple of weeks. They had been uneventful enough. They had hunted a ware wolf in New Mexico and Cas had slipped up. The thing had nearly taken his arm off and Dean had told him that next time he could wait in the car. Every night he slept on motel couches, hoping his breathing wasn't too loud. He had no time to miss his grace, to embrace his newfound humanity.

"You don't need me." He said.

"Don't be stupid."

"It's true Dean. You know it, I know it."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The hunter's voice was light, or superficially so.

"Dean, I want to leave, to go off on my own."

"No."

"Dean,"

"No, and that's final. Nobody's going anywhere, okay?"

"Dean, please,"

"Cas, I'm tired, it's been a long night, just stop it with the crazy talk already."

Castiel fell silent again. He had so much he wanted to say and so few words to express it. His insides churned with thoughts he couldn't voice. They stopped once for gas. Dean got a coffee, 'spiced it up' with something from a flask. It was not for another hour, during which time Sam awoke, before they stopped at a diner for breakfast.

Castiel stared down at his eggs and bacon. He had wasted the novelty of food on greasy gas station atrocities, microwave meals, and takeout. Now, getting nutrition was a task he must complete in order to stay alive. Across the table, Dean was wolfing down his breakfast, drinking another 'spiced up' coffee.

"Eat, Cas." Dean looked up at him.

"I'm not especially hungry."

"Oh, bull crap. Eat. We're gonna drive through a big stretch of nothing today, I can't promise we'll be able to stop for lunch."

"That's fine, Dean. But if it's all the same to you, I'd like to continue our conversation from earlier."

"What- no. There's nothing to discuss, I already told you no."

"Wait" Sam cut in, "What discussion?"

"Cas wants to go off on his own." Said Dean.

"What? Cas, don't be stupid." Both Winchesters were now looking at him.

Castiel frowned. He had expected this reaction. Of course they would deny his uselessness. That didn't mean that they didn't believe it. They wouldn't tell him the truth. That didn't mean he didn't know it.

They drove through a great part of Utah that day. There wasn't much to see. The snow covered everything like icing on a cake, less appetizing where the road met it and ground it into brown slush. There was not much in the way of conversation. Not that there ever was. Dean blasted the radio, as always. Cas had yet to develop a taste in music but he didn't think this would fit it.

It wasn't until past midnight that they pulled into a roadside motel for some much needed sleep. Sam worried they would be too late. The Demon they were hunting might already have fled. The Winchesters booked a room with two beds. Two beds and a couch for Castiel.

"Cas," Dean said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "We done with all that crazy talk?"

Even the warmth and the weight of Dean's hand, the little sparks of feeling that shot through him at the touch, could not strengthen Castiel's resolve. Nevertheless he muttered a "yes".

"Good," said Dean, "Cause there's only so much stupid I can take. Night Cas."

"Goodnight Dean."

Castiel settled onto his couch-bed with no intention of sleep.

It was at times like this when he missed his wings most. Though the padded carpet swallowed his footfalls, The walk between his make-shift bed and the door was too long. There was too much time to think about what he was doing. He could hear Sam and Dean's heavy breathing. There was a soft rustling as Dean rolled over in his sleep and Castiel had to fight the urge to look on the hunter one last time. No. That would only tempt him from what he knew he must do. He reached the door, let himself out into the snowy night and guided the door closed again, slowly, so as not to make a sound.


	2. Chapter 2

He had thought about leaving a note, a goodbye, but it seemed superfluous. What could he say that they didn't know already? He hadn't left a note, hadn't taken anything save his coat. He would not take from the Winchesters, he had done that enough.

Cas walked along the side of the road. Icy sludge filled his shoes in seconds. Soon he had lost the feeling in his toes entirely. The cold tore through his trench coat as if it were nothing. His humanity would be the death of him if he did not find shelter soon. He held out his hand, thumb up as he had seen people do on television.

It was not like in the television. Car after car tore past him without stopping. He might not know much about being human, but he knew that if someone didn't stop for him soon he would die. He already felt the numbness creeping into his fingers and up his legs, insidious harbingers of an icy death.

He did not want to die. Even now, even when he had nothing but the clothes on his back, even when he'd lost the most important people in the world to him, he wanted to live. He supposed it was that impulse, as old as humanity itself to carry on; to fight or flee. It seemed his nature had driven him to the latter.

As headlights passed, light chased shadow across his path. He imagined making this trip with Sam and Dean -with Dean- in the Impala. The heat would be on. Sam would be complaining about the radio. It's too loud; he would want to sleep. Dean would mutter, "bitch" under his breath and Sam would return with "jerk" and the whole thing would be settled, usually Sam's way.

But he was not in the Impala. He was not with Sam and Dean. He was just Cas, alone.

"Hey! Hey, you with the trench coat!"

Castiel turned around, and was blinded. Headlights, brighter than sunlight, were shinning into his face. He blinked, rubbed his eyes. The shape of a pickup slowly took form. He walked towards it.

"Get in." The driver, a woman, young, she might have been pretty, gestured for him to open the passenger-side door. Once he was inside she scolded him, "the hell you think you were doing out there in those clothes?"

Castiel shrugged. The whole breed of non-Winchester humans were a frightening bunch.

"Okay, keep your secrets. Any place in particular you looking to go?"

Cas thought about it. He had no home and no money. But he could have a job, if he could remember where. "Joyful Valley," he said, "it's in Wyoming."

The Woman chuckled. "Well it's your lucky day isn't it? I'm heading into Cheyenne. That's on my way."

"Thanks." Castiel settled into his seat.

"What's your name anyway?"

"Castiel."

The woman laughed, "Weird name. You amish or something?"

Castiel said nothing.

"Look, you got a right to your secrets, but I've got to ask, you aren't a murderer or anything are you?"

"No."

"Okay. Sit tight, we've got a long drive."

He must have fallen asleep somewhere along the way. What he dreamed about he could not for the life of him remember, but it must have been pleasant because when he awoke he was instantly disappointed. The sun had not yet risen and the world was still the eerie white of moonlit snow.

"Good morning sunshine." The woman turned to him. She looked tired but not unfriendly.

"Morning." Castiel looked down at his soaked and wrinkled clothes, evidence of last night's flight. Sleep had not cleared his mind a bit, he still wasn't sure if he had made the right decision. It didn't matter, it was his reality now, right or not.

"Joyful Valley's about ten minutes away," she said, "you got a place to stay once you get there?"

"No."

The woman looked at him in silence for a moment. "You sure you'll be alright?"

"No."

There was concern in her face, and pity, and just a hint of mistrust. "You want me to drop you at the men's shelter?"

"What's a men's shelter?"

The woman sighed. "I guess you'll find out when we get there."

Several minutes later, the woman pulled up in front of a low, utilitarian looking building. It declared itself to be the _Joyful Valley Men's Shelter_. Joyful Valley, as a town, was about as joyful as the hunched, concrete façade of its men's shelter, grey and dead and unforgiving under its snowy shroud.

"Look, I like you, you seem like a sweet guy. How about this, I'll drop you at the shelter and, because I'm worried about you, I'll give you this."

The woman handed him several twenty-dollar bills folded inside a piece of paper. _Kit Fisher_, it read, and that was followed by a phone number. Dean used to love getting women's phone numbers. Cas might have appreciated the gesture more if he'd had a phone.

"Call me if you ever need anything."

"Thank you." He said, squinting down at the gift.

As he moved toward the door, Kit reached out her hand, "Do you ant me to walk you in?"

"No," said Castiel, "I'll be alright." That was the first lie he had told in a very long time.

* * *

Dean's existence had never been a stable one. Comparing his life to a house of cards would probably be too generous, but it will do as a metaphor. Dean had gone to sleep that night with his house intact, fragile, temporary, but whole. He did not feel it collapse. It must have happened sometime in the night. One little card had slipped away, one card without which he structure could not hold.

He didn't realize that his world had come crashing down, until he saw the empty couch. He called Cas' name, checked the bathroom, the hall outside.

There were things he could have told himself. _Cas is out for food_, _Cas is out for ice_, _Cas will be back in a minute with a squint in his eyes and his mouth in a straight, hard, line just like always, just like normal._ But there were words hiding in the back of his throat. Words that he had exiled from his brain. Those words were: _Cas is gone, Cas is not coming back._ And deeper still: _It's your fault. Cas is gone because of you._

"Dean what the hell?" It was one of those rare days when Sam slept later than Dean.

"Cas is gone."

"What?"

"He's gone."

"How? When?"

"The hell should I know? His bed's empty. He's not anywhere."

"What?"

"Are you stupid or something? Cas left. He ran off."

Sam sat still and quiet in his bed, staring across at the empty couch. Sam suggested the same things he had tried to hope. Dean just stared. It might be true that he had missed the angel in Cas. He sometimes caught himself beginning to pray to a man who was just a man. He wished he could do that now. He wished that he could close his eyes and call without words and Castiel would answer with a flutter of invisible wings.

"Dean- what're we going to do?" Sam began to slide out of bed.

"I don't know what we're going to do, but I'm going after Cas."

"Alone? Dean, why?"

"Because it's Cas," he said, "and he always came when I called."

"Dean wait," Sam cried after Dean, who was already lacing up his shoes, "You don't even know where he went!"

But Dean was already pulling on his jacket and closing the door behind him.

The Impala was like a damn freezer when he got in. The snow in the parking lot was still untouched. He defiled it with his tire tracks, pulling out quickly and scanning the road.

What should he look for? Footprints? No, the new coating of snow would have hidden them. What then? He continued up the road from the motel, looking desperately for some kind of sign. How far could Cas have gone on foot? He wouldn't have made it far in this weather, and at night. The thought entered his head, unbidden. _What if Cas didn't know his limits yet? What if he had ignored the cold? _No. No. He was going to find Castiel, and he would be alright.

He drove on a ways, looking for something, anything. He tried to prepare himself for something he prayed he wouldn't see. A crumpled figure on the side of the road, inadequately wrapped in a trench coat.

He had driven for almost an hour before he finally pulled over to he side of the road. His chest was heaving, his heart pounding. It was as if a spring, coiled tight in his gut, was about to burst free. When it did, it was with such force that it forced a scream through his lips, a string of obscenities that would have scared Cas half to death if he were there.

At last, breathless, hopeless, spent, Dean collapsed against the back of his seat.

There was so much more he wanted to get out of it but, "damn it Cas," was all he could muster.

**Author's** **Note:** Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! I should probably explain that I'm going to be updating this twice-weekly for the near future. Sundays and Thursdays. Once school starts up again I will have to do it weekly (probably Sundays) so... that's the schedule.


	3. Chapter 3

Cas' first night in the men's shelter was a strange and terrible affair. He was tired. He had spent the day in the library -the only place with free computers- doing the research that Sam would have done were he here. He was tired now. He could not hunt down the demon tonight. Instead he followed the man from the front desk to a bed that was suddenly his. It was in a room full of other beds, all just the same. It was a dismal place, bare and grey; but it was heated, he would not freeze.

"Hey," an elderly man, slumped with some spinal deformity, occupied the bed next to him.

"Hello," said Castiel.

"Welcome to purgatory man, limbo. The place between places."

"I've been to purgatory," said Castiel, "this is not purgatory."

"Right."

The man looked him over, eyes lingering on the ruined tie that hung limply around Cas' neck.

"So, what, you some kind of business man?"

"No. I was an angel of he lord. Until recently." Castiel forgot to lie.

The older man rolled his eyes. "Always get stuck with the crazy ones." He muttered, "Goddamn loony bin in here and I'm the only one who's sane," then turned away.

Left to himself, Castiel slipped out of his coat, loosened his tie. He stripped down to his boxers, then put on the pajamas the man from the front desk had given him.

Since he had lost his grace, he had never paused to notice the lightness of his shoulders. He realized he missed the heavy, soft, warmth of his wings, the sense that he had worth that no one else could see.

He laid down. The bed was hard, the blanket rough. As he tried to sleep he found something prodded him, keeping him awake. It might have been the fact that he missed Dean more than he missed his wings. It might have been the fact that he would never see the hunter again. It might have been the fact that he could still feel the ghost of pressure on his shoulder where Dean had touched him. It might have been the fact that the pillow was too thin. He didn't know.

When at last sleep took him, he dreamed sweet and desperate dreams. He dreamed about the Castiel that had died with his grace. An angel whose voice shattered glass, whose form burned eyes and ruined minds. He dreamed that he was that angel, and Dean, Dean was his old self. That hunter who'd stick a knife in some ancient evil and come away smiling, who'd take his pain with a shot of whiskey. He dreamed that he had that man in his power, in his hands, and he molded him like the clay from which his kind was made. It was a good dream and it was over too quickly.

It was his stomach that woke him. It reminded him, with a low, impatient growl, that it had not been fed in two days. Not since breakfast with Sam and Dean –with Dean. The food at the shelter was bad, but not unbearable. There was a thick, glue-like oatmeal that Castiel found to slake his apatite. He was still trying to lick it off the roof of his mouth when the bent-over old man came to sit next to him.

"Morning Angel-boy," he mumbled.

"It is."

"What?"

"Morning."

"Anyone ever tell you you're annoying as hell?" The man asked, ripping off a piece of burnt toast with his teeth.

"I've been told." Cas thought of Dean.

"I figured."

They ate in silence after that, all the better because Castiel found his breakfast had a bad habit of sticking his mouth closed. Today, he decided, he would find that demon. So far it had taken four girls, all virgins. It suddenly came into Castiel's mind that all this time the had been imagining killing he thing with the knife. The knife he didn't have.

He sighed into his oatmeal. He would have to exorcize it then. If he could just get it into a devil's trap he knew the exorcism by heart. But how would he even began to subdue it?

He realized that all this time, when he imagined hunting, he imagined hunting with the Winchesters, with friends to aid him, with a well stocked arsenal in the trunk. With Dean's smile of satisfaction when the deed was done. It wasn't so now. Now it was just Castiel, with not even a butter knife for his defense.

Nevertheless, today was the day. Castiel pushed back from the table, swallowing with effort the last bite of his oatmeal.

"Where are you going?" The old man looked up at him.

"I have a job to do," said Cas.

* * *

It wasn't that Dean had given up hope. He still hoped, he always hoped. But it had been two days. Sam said they had no choice. There was still a demon in Joyful Valley and it wasn't going to stop killing just because Cas was gone. Besides, when had loss ever stopped Dean?

So they left the hotel, and Dean was less worried than he would have been that Cas would come back and not know where they'd gone. Still, the back seat seemed so empty. He thought about the last drive he'd taken with Cas. All he'd asked was to use the bathroom. Why had Dean been so frustrated?

At last, Sam broke the silence. "Dean," at his name, the hunter started.

"What?"

"Okay, this whole Cas thing, I think we need to talk about this."

"What's there to talk about?"

Sam sighed. "It's just, you're taking it way harder than you usually do these things."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean felt a twinge of defensiveness come into his voice.

"Look, I miss Cas too, don't get me wrong, I'm sorry he left, but maybe, maybe it's not all bad."

Dean raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"It's just us again Dean. No angels, no destiny, just us. Hunting. And Cas, I mean, I hate to say it, but since he lost his mojo, he's just a guy. A guy with a history of lying to us, and screwing over. Maybe this isn't the end of the world, Dean."

Silence was quick to fill the space between them, a space which heated to he point where nothing, even silence, could exist there. It seemed to sizzle and smoke in the void between the driver and passenger seats.

This time, it was Dean who spoke first. "How could you say that?" It was very nearly a whisper.

Sam did not at first respond.

"How could you say that, after everything he did for us?" Dean pressed further. "After all this time, Sam?"

"Dean, come on."

"Cas would have died for us."

"He would have gotten us killed."

"You don't know that!" Dean was driving erratically now, pushing ninety miles an hour on the narrow road. Thank God the place was vacant.

"Why are you defending him like this?" Sam demanded, "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were in love with the guy."

Dean's voice caught in his throat. He tried to force it out, desperately. It wouldn't come, traitorous thing.

"Dean?"

"You're an idiot Sam." He managed.

Joyful Valley appeared on the horizon like a blessing. As soon as they pulled into the dead-looking downtown, they left Sam and Dean in the car and FBI agents, Smith and Johnson made their way to the police station to ask about some dead girls. Smith and Johnson's relationship was strictly professional, no fighting.

"Well I'm afraid you two are too late." The police chief smiled.

"What?" Agent 'Smith' –Sam- demanded.

"We caught the guy. Yesterday. He turned himself in actually. Total nut job, said demons made him do it."

The two agents exchanged a glance.

"We need to talk to him, now," said 'Johnson'.

The police chief shrugged. He showed the two FBI men through to the cells. All but one of them was empty and that one was barely occupied by the cowering murderer.

"Caleb Pollard?" Agent 'Smith' was the first into the cell. The man looked up.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions." Said 'Johnson'.

"You're just going to call me crazy like all the rest." The murderer mumbled.

"How about you let us hear you out first?" 'Smith' leaned against the wall.

The cowering prisoner sighed, fidgeted, did everything but answer. Finally he seemed to put his thoughts into words.

"Demon. There was a demon inside me. It was the one who killed those girls it said- it said it liked the _taste_ of virgins. _The taste_. Jesus. It made me do such horrible things…"

Both agents seemed to perk up.

"But, the demon, it's not in you right now, is it?" 'Smith' pressed further.

"No. It's out of me. This guy, he got it out."

"Guy?"

"This homeless looking guy. Trench coat. I don't know, he didn't exactly leave his number."

'Johnson' looked as if someone had just punched him in the gut. He looked to his partner who said nothing but pursed his lips a little.

"Do you know where he is?" 'Johnson's voice shook.

"No," the man was both apologetic and a bit put off. "The cops were saying he must have left town. They looked everywhere for him."

'Johnson' didn't even excuse himself to his partner, just walked out.

"Damn it." 'Smith' muttered, and followed him out.

Caleb, the murderer, could hear them arguing in the hall.

"It's Cas, it has to be Cas!"

"I know. But what do you want to do about it?"

"To go after him, Sam, what do you think?"

"Go after him? You don't even know which direction he left in. We live in a big country, Dean, and right now, we're smack in the middle of it."

"So? We're hunters, we can track things. If Cas is hunting now it's not like he's undercover."

"We?"

"No, you're right, not we. I'm going alone."

"Dean,"

"No. I get it, you don't trust him now that he's not useful you don't care, but guess what, _I _do. I'm going to find him and drag his ass back here. You can sit pretty in the motel."

"Fine, Dean."

'Smith' and 'Johnson' said no more. One set of feet stormed out of the police station. A minute or so later, another left. Slowly.


	4. Chapter 4

After Joyful Valley, there had been a haunting in Ohio, now something in California. Sometimes he slept in a shelter, more often on the street. The supposed ghost back in Iowa City had turned out to be nothing, but there was good begging and he had been able to buy a sleeping bag.

It had been two weeks now. At first, he had had to work to tear the image of Dean from the place behind his eyelids. Now the pain was more of a dull throbbing. Dean was not there. Again. There was no Impala, no Sam at his laptop. Again. Still Castiel carried on. He had the knife he had taken from the Joyful Valley demon. It was alright in a fight. That, and the salt, iron, or what have you, that he found on the spot, and he had turned out to be a decent hunter. Decent enough to get by.

He had been so useless to Sam and Dean –to Dean- that he ad cursed every fiber of this useless human form. He wasn't so useless now. If Dean could see him -what? What would Dean do? Would Dean consider him worthy now? Perhaps, but Castiel was sure, utterly and terribly, that he would never see the hunter again.

Probably better. Not that he admitted it, even to himself, but no matter how good of a hunter he became, there was the inescapable fact that the job was killing him. He didn't heal anymore. At least, not the way he used to. If he was stabbed, he had stab wounds. When it snowed, and his sleeping bag was not enough to fight off he cold, he got blisters from frostbite. No matter how well he fought monsters, his own mortality was not something he could fight, and it was closing in. He hadn't eaten in a few days. His center could not hold, his stomach threatened to implode.

"This is where I'm dropping you, okay kid?" A small main street lined with mock-old west buildings.

"Thank you." Castiel mumbled, taking his sleeping bag in one hand and climbing out of the car.

Doors, California. Something had been snatching school children off the streets. Local authorities claimed it was a serial killer. Castiel was sure it wasn't. If Sam and Dean were here –if Dean were here- they would put on costumes, FBI or something, and the citizens, authorities, everyone would tell them what they wanted to hear. Not so for Castiel on is own.

He looked awful, smelled worse. His trench coat and dirty shirt hung off of him like a banner bereft of wind. He had no costumes, no fake ID's, and heaven knows –for lack of a better saying- none of the Winchester's natural charm. If he were to investigate, he would have to turn to those sorry souls who were as bad off as himself.

There was an alley leading off Main Street, the sort which housed the refuse of society, which he now counted among. Sleeping bag in hand, knife up his sleeve, he went in.

"Who's that? Who's there?" A voice issued from the darkness.

"Hello," called Castiel.

A man, grizzled despite his appearing to be only middle aged, emerged from just beyond where the light reached. He looked at Castiel first with distrust then, recognizing one of his own kind, with something amiable.

"You look like hell." He said, "Here, sit." He indicated a spot against the filthy brick wall.

Castiel sat.

"I'm Bradley." He introduced himself in a voice that sounded like he ate cigarettes for every meal.

"Castiel."

"What brought you out here, Castiel?"

"Work."

Bradley snorted. "What the hell kind of job do you do looking like that?"

Cas didn't answer.

"Okay then, don't answer."

"Can I ask you something?" Castiel asked abruptly.

"You can ask."

"What do you know about the kidnappings?"

"Aw, come on man, did someone put you up to this?" The other man was agitated, "go ask that crazy hobo to tell his crazy story! Jesus man! I thought you seemed cool."

"No. No, I promise, I'll believe whatever you tell me. No one put me up to anything." Castiel reassured him.

Seemingly appeased, Bradley leaned in secretively, "Okay, well, this is going to sound totally crazy, hell, it had me thinking I was crazy for a while, but then I thought about it more, and I'm sure, I'm sure I'm right."

Cas gestured for him to go on.

"Okay, so, you know that third kid who got snatched? The little ginger kid. Okay, so this kid was walking home, he cut down this alley. Dumb ass thing to do, go down a dark alley, but he did it and I didn't want to creep him out so I kind of hid. So the kid was walking along fine until, out of nowhere, this lady comes up behind him, and I swear, I never even saw here coming, she grabs the kid and then, _poof_."

"Poof?"

"Poof. She just disappeared, right into thin air with the kid. I told that to the cops when they asked, figured it was better to just be honest, and they pegged me as crazy. But I know I'm not crazy, I know hat I saw and if you don't believe me then you can go suck a-"

"I believe you." And Castiel did. Already he was trying to figure out what it must be.

"Seriously? You're a good guy, Castiel."

"Did you see what the woman looked like?" He pushed further.

"Yeah actually, that's where it gets weirder. See, you know that bench at the bus stop across the street?"

Cas recalled it. It had featured an advertisement for landscaping artist Kitty Fisher. The name sounded vaguely familiar, and the photo, the young, pretty blond woman, smiling a closed mouthed, all-business smile, jogged vague but not too distant memories.

"Well I could have sworn it was her, only apparently that chick was in Wyoming or something when it happened so it couldn't be her. But it looked just like her man, I swear."

"I believe you." Castiel said, mind working furiously, trying to place the name and face.

"It's about damn time somebody does. I don't want to sound like a nut job, but I think there might be something supernatural going on here."

Castiel nodded. He wondered what Dean would do if he were here. No doubt he would laugh at this man, tell him he really was crazy then use the information he gave them. Then he banished the thoughts of Dean as best he could.

"Want some?" Bradley held out a bottle wrapped in a paper bag.

Cas shrugged and took a swig. He felt the noxious liquid burn all the way down.

"Good stuff, huh?" Bradley asked. "Look at us, two guys, screwed over by the world, drinking piss out of a paper bag."

But Cas wasn't listening. The stuff must have been stronger than he was ready for, because he felt himself detaching from his body. Bradley seemed to shimmer and fade, along with his chorus of, "hey man, are you okay? Come on man!"

All was swallowed by the dark and the silence. He slept for several hours at least. When he came to, Bradley had gone and so had the sun. The alley was dark and faded to absolute darkness as it went further back. Tonight Castiel would not be sleeping in an alley tonight, in fact, he wouldn't be sleeping. He would be hunting down the thing called Kitty Fisher.

* * *

Damn it. Damn it. Sam was right. Damn it. He didn't want to say it. He hadn't articulated it, even in his mind. Damn it. He told himself that it was just a product of lack of sleep. He hadn't slept in days. No. Damn it. That was the worst part, there was no denying it, it just crept back in again, asserting itself as law, as fundamental fact. Gravity held Dean Winchester on Earth, Dean Winchester was in love with Castiel. Damn it.

He had been chasing Cas for two weeks now. It was killing him. He had been denying himself sleep, letting coffee and whiskey battle for supremacy in his body, then drowning the victor with a sizable dose of the loser. He couldn't keep up like this, but he could not let himself lapse back into sleep, so vivid were the dreams, he couldn't take them. Cas dead, Cas bleeding, Cas in his arms, no. He couldn't think it.

One of the phones rang. The sound was so sudden, so jarring, he nearly crashed the car. Caller ID said it was Sam.

"Dean!" Sam's familiar voice sounded alien in his addled brain. The younger Winchester had called once before since Joyful Valley. It was only to say that he was working his own case and Dean could pick him up when he was ready to work as a team again.

"Sam, hi!"

"Where have you been? I've tried you three times already. I was starting to worry about you."

"I'm fine Sammy, what's up?"

"Look, I think I might have a lead on Cas. I was checking-"

"Wait, since when do you care about finding Cas?"

"I felt bad, okay? It doesn't matter. Any way, He's somewhere in California."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, you said Cas was in Iowa City last week? Well I was checking some security footage from the area, and I saw this guy, dark hair, dirty trench coat, it had to be Cas. Anyway, he was getting in a car. I worked a little magic, and I found out it got a speeding ticket just over the California border and the camera that picked it up, I made a call and I got the picture. Cas was still with him."

"You are _such_ a nerd Sammy. Thanks."

"Oh, and hey, when you find Cas again, tell him I'm sorry, okay? I guess I may have been kind of hard on the little guy."

"I will, thanks Sammy, you're a life saver."

"No problem. See you soon."

"Yeah."

This was it. He had started to lose hope again, started to think that this was the time he wouldn't be able to catch up with Cas, because this time Cas would be dead. Sam had saved him from despair. He was going to find Cas, and this time he would not be too late. He knew he could find him because there was only once possible case in California. For the first time in days, Dean felt a little of the worry lift from his shoulders. Just enough that he could carry on.

**Author's Note:** Hello readers! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'm sorry it was a wee bit late, I'm on vacation so I've been away from the computer all day. Any how, this is looking to be the ante-penultimate chapter (3rd to last) and I finally figured out how it's all going to end and I think you'll all enjoy it. Just letting you know. As always, tell me what you think of the story, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Finding the office of Fisher Reality as not hard. Even at one in the morning, there was a light on in the back room, and the lamp that shone in the street outside illuminated the sign like a beacon in the night. Castiel wondered if it was best to take the front door. Of course, there was still the chance that Bradley was wrong, that he really was crazy. Cas might end up breaking into a legitimate business and scaring an innocent woman half to death. However, the nagging familiarity of the name and face convinced him otherwise.

He decided to scope the place first. He crept down a little alley that took him to the back of the building, which opened on a parking lot. A strikingly familiar pick-up was it's only occupant. Sure enough, a back window stood open, almost as if they wanted him to break in. There was one capera, pointed at the window. He didn't care overmuch. How much did it really matter that they knew he was coming?

Another Castiel would have waited before jumping into this. He would have known his limits. But this Cas was dying anyway. Without further thought, he slid through the open window and into the hallway beyond. There was wall-to-wall carpeting, the kind all businesses seem to have, every shade of vomit splattered on a beige background. The walls were white and lined with labeled doors. _Supply Closet/ Electrical Closet, DO NOT OPEN, RISK OF DEATH/ Unisex, accessible bathroom_.

Only one door showed light beneath it. One labeled _Copy Center_. Castiel paused only a moment, to feel the hard reassurance of his knife handle. Then he went in.

The woman did not seem surprised to see Cas. She did not scream, did not threaten, only started a little. Upon seeing her in person, he was able to place her in his mind. Kit. Kit who gave him money and a phone number. Kit who gave him a ride to Joyful Valley that first, awful night.

"Castiel," she said, "Long time no see."

He gawped.

"Come on, don't stare at me like that! Where's the hardy little angel gone?"

_What?_

"You look so surprised, it wasn't that hard really, I can still smell it on you."

Castiel was looking behind her, there was an alter, strewn with bones and knives and other strange things.

"You're a witch," he murmured softly.

Kitty's eyes narrowed with mal-intent. "I guess that's all I am, isn't it. A witch. Of course you don't remember me this outfit is pretty new. How about I give you a hint, Sugarplum, you and me, we have the same daddy."

"You're an…angel." The realization hit Castiel like something solid.

"Correction, _was _an angel. Verb tense you know, pain in the ass. No, I'm human now, just like you. Only unlike you, I came up with a plan B to keep some of my old powers."

"Witchcraft."

"Bingo. And you know, I've been looking for a way to fix it. Thought I found one too. Didn't work though, still human, just, now I'm a human with a bunch of dead kids buried in my back yard."

Castiel still did not know how to answer.

"Well, I'm going to spare you the rest of the villain monologue, I'll cut it down to this: Cas, you're going to die. It's only fair, after everything you did, well, I'm not usually one for the death penalty, but you, Sweetie, take the cake."

Castiel felt as if the air were suddenly snatched from his lungs. He gasped fruitlessly. Magic, she was cursing him, but how? He looked around the room, hoping it would simply offer up the hex bag, he was too weak, dark spots were forming in the corners of his vision. _Please_, he mouthed, looking up at the woman who was killing him, his sister, for all intents and purposes. He searched for some sign of familial mercy that might incline her to spare him. He found none.

This was how he was going to die; this was it. He would never see Dean again. Suddenly that reality seemed more solid, more terrifying than ever. There were words that common sense had held back before, that would never have their chance at life. He would never see Dean's smile again, never hear the sound of his voice. Curse the selflessness that ever tore Castiel away from the man he loved, yes, that was the word, the unspoken word that the silence hungered for between them. _Love._ And now it was still born in his empty lungs. The silence would remain, hungry, it would remain forever now that he could never speak to Dean again.

He felt his knees buckle, but it was the least of his worries.

"After you screwed up heaven," Kitty went on, "you couldn't stop there could you? No. First the Leviathans, then, damn, it _would _be you who let Metatron cast us out. It's always you, Castiel. I hoped you'd had the decency to fall into the ocean and drown, but it was better. God delivered you into my car. He let me kill you myself. Well, I had a little help from Bradley, but, you know, the sentiment's the same."

Her words ceased to posses meaning. Reality crumbled around him. So this was dying, really dying. It wasn't as painless as he had thought.

Then there was a flash, a noise like the thunder of an avenging God.

* * *

He could so easily have been too late. He wouldn't have known where to find Cas at all if it weren't for a particularly sketchy homeless man hanging around the alley where the kids had gone missing. He hadn't bothered to find a back way, instead, he charged straight through the front door.

There was a second when he paused. Separation had made him crazy. Maybe Cas was in there doing just fine. What f he didn't want to see Dean. Ad then, then there was the other possibility that was even worse: what if Cas was already dead? Those images that had plagued his imagination and his dreams, they all came rushing back. He gathered his strength and burst in.

If he normally shot first, asked questions later, it was nothing like this. All it took was a second, was Cas's crumpled body on the floor, the woman standing over him, the gun practically fired itself. The woman did not even cry out but collapsed like a curtain falling to end a play. He crossed the room in three steps.

It was more natural than breathing to take Cas's limp form into his arms. He felt that lean body, the regular ridging of his rib cage, the hollow beneath it. Had those always been there? Dean wanted to fill those hollows, to perfect the imperfections in that broken body.

"Cas," he whispered, "Cas come on. You always pull through, don't let me down now, come on buddy."

The delicate, damaged form suddenly inflated with breath. "Dean" he whispered, _Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean._ The name dripped from Cas's lips like raindrops falling to put out a fire. Suddenly life came into the heavy limbs, which rose to clutch Dean closer to him.

The weird thing was, Dean had expected there to be some kind of stop, a wall that would keep him from doing this with another man. But there was nothing, no glass barrier that came up to stop him holding Cas, or kissing, first tentatively, surprised at Cas's initiative, then deeper as his own took hold. There was nothing to stop him entangling his fingers in another man's hair, or whispering _I love you_ against his unshaven cheek, or feeling ecstasy at the sound of _I love you too_.

At last the moment ended and they pulled apart. Dean helped Cas to his feet. They left the room, the dead witch, behind. Cas was still weak and leaned against Dean as they staggered out of the building.

"Why don't we get a motel room," Dean said, "You need a shower."

They drove an hour out of town before pulling in to a darkened parking lot. The woman at the front desk said she had the perfect room for them. When they got there they were met by the same crumby, wood paneled room as always, except, there was only one bed. Maybe he was just too tired to complain.

"I'll take the couch," Cas moved in that direction.

"No," Dean said, sternly, then softer, "no, why don't we just share the bed. I think I'll sleep easier knowing you're actually here."

"I love you Dean." Cas said it one more time, more real than before now that the peril was through.

**Author's Note**: Hello again readers! I must confess, I planed for this story to be much longer but what with school about to start up and me not having done any of my summer homework, I don't think I'd get much more done. So here is the second to last chapter of a Hungry Silence, it's pretty much just going to be fluffy bunnies and butterflies from here on out, but I think we've had enough plot. It's been fun, and I apologize for the sub-par writing in chapter four. Please, please, _please_ give reviews, good or bad. I will see you all again in chapter 6. Also remember that I am open to prompts for shorter things so send me a message if you think of anything.


	6. Chapter 6

Even clean and shaven, Castiel looked a good deal shabbier than he did before. He was thinner. There were shadows and hollows etched into his pale face. He didn't look like an angel anymore, not that he ever looked the part, really. He just looked less heavenly than usual.

He examined his reflection, it must be his reflection, but it didn't look right. Could those really be the eyes that once stared down Lucifer? Was that really the jaw that had taken punch after brutal punch? Really? And that mouth, was that really the mouth that Dean Winchester had kissed? _It was_.

"Cas?" Dean called from the bedroom.

"I'm here."

"Good. Just checking," the sound of bedsprings groaning, "Cas?"

"Yes?"

"I- last night- it actually happened didn't it."

"What do you mean?"

"All that, 'I love you' stuff."

"Yes." Tentatively.

"Okay."

"Are you disappointed?"

"I… need time, Cas. This is big."

Castiel said nothing. He looked at the mirror again, at the hollow face that met his gaze. He was afraid. Of what, he could not quite put into words. Dean. He was afraid of Dean's nervousness, of his _needing time_. What did that even mean? Why did Dean need time when he had seemed so sure before? What if it was all a mistake, made in the heat of the moment? There were so many more _what if_'s running through his mind. But his reflection did not look scared. Good. That was good.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Dean was fully dressed and sitting at the table. His chin rested on a gently curled fist. Castiel hung back, afraid to disturb him. Too late, he'd already looked up. Dean sighed as Castiel froze in the middle of the room.

"Look, Cas," he said, "I'm really glad you're back. I -we wouldn't have made it far without you. I just- I just need to think about this whole in-love-with-another-man thing, okay?"

"Okay, Dean." There was no food in the motel room. That was fine, he wasn't hungry anyway.

After about half an hour of this, Dean suggested they pack up and hit the road. "Sammy's been worried. He'll be glad to see you again."

The first part of the ride was silent, at least as far as conversation was concerned. There was no lack of noise, Dean blasted his music so loud it made Castiel's ears ring. He had missed this, more than he would care to admit. Just like he missed the smell of the car, of Dean's jackets. It all felt so good. If only he could understand what Dean was feeling, if he could change it. Then everything would be perfect.

"Dean?"

"What?" He turned the music down, just a bit.

"Did you think about it?"

Dean pursed his lips. "It's not that simple, Cas."

"Why not?" This was almost defensive.

The hunter sighed, "Look, it's not as simple as you think it is Cas. I'm- I do love you. I said it. I meant it. But you've got to understand, that's kind of new for me. I mean, you're a man. And that's _different_, you know?"

"Yes. I understand."

Castiel looked out the window again. He was confused, and more than a little worried, but Dean had said _I love you_ again. That was enough to sustain him. He had been away from Dean for so long he had forgotten the gruffness of his tone, the edge to his words. Castiel started at the heavy touch of Dean's hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Cas."

"It's alright."

"Hey, maybe once this all sinks in, you and I could, you know, do something together."

"Something?"

"I don't know, like, a movie or dinner or something."

"Oh."

"Okay," Dean grinned, "that sounded really stupid."

"I don't think it sounds stupid," said Castiel.

"You know, you're not making this any easier for me. I hate all this stupid romantic stuff."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I was not aware of being _romantic_, but I'll try to stop."

Dean laughed, "God, I missed you, Cas."

Castiel smiled at the scenery outside. When the silence resumed it was more companionable. Dean turned his music back up, and though his brow was still creased, his mouth set in a hard line, Castiel was sure now, that things were going to be okay. He no longer felt useless. He no longer felt tolerated.

After a few more hours of driving, Castiel was almost positive this was his taste in music after all. He was also getting hungry. Dean suggested they stop at a roadside diner.

The woman who led them to their table cast them a suspicious look when their hands brushed. Dean ordered a cheeseburger with bacon on it. Castiel ordered the same, but without the bacon. At first, Dean didn't meet Castiel's eyes. There was no discomfort in his averted gaze, and little awkwardness. When at last he did speak, those eyes, brilliant and green, were fixed on the knot of his tie.

"Can I ask you something, Cas?"

"Yes, of course."

"Why did you leave?"

Castiel had to think about it for a while. "I was useless." He said at last, "I slowed you down. Your patience was wearing thin."

Dean met his eyes properly then, and they held Castiel fast. "Useless? Cas, why would you think that?"

"You were constantly frustrated with me. You told me not to assist you on hunts. I made an educated guess."

A frown creased the hunter's brow and pulled down the corners of his mouth. "I _never _wanted you gone. I told you that going off on your own was stupid. Why didn't you listen to me."

"You have a history of lying to save people's feelings."

"And you have a history of not taking my advice and screwing everything up."

The tension that hummed momentarily in the air could not hold. Dean laughed, and for a minute Castiel was puzzled. Then he smiled too.

"Don't run away again or I swear, I'll have to get you chipped or something."

"Chipped?"

"Like a cat. So I can track you."

"Please don't do that, Dean."

More laughing.

By the time the woman came with their meals the silence had resumed but both men were staring, honey eyed, at one another. Dean broke eye contact the moment he caught her looking.

"Thanks," he murmured, taking the plate from her. She placed the other in front of Castiel, who thanked her as well.

"I missed this." Castiel ate greedily, remembering the breakfast he never had, the dinner he hadn't had before that.

"You and burgers, man, what is it?"

"I like them. A man has to eat."

Dean scoffed a little.

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure the last time we had burgers together you ended up elbow deep in ground beef."

"Those were not normal conditions." Another huge bite.

There was a bit more back and forth, nothing of consequence. Dean once allowed his hand to brush against Castiel's, eliciting cold shivers. Castiel ate quickly then sat back, satisfied and full. Dean made some passing comment comparing it to a date, then became flustered and suggested they get going. After all, they were meeting Sam at the motel in Nevada at twelve. If they were going to get there on time they'd better go. As they left, the waitress watched them as if expecting one or the other to place his had somewhere profane.

They stopped periodically to fill the car and empty themselves. It was a long drive, but not dull. Though they didn't talk much –Dean said he was still thinking the _in-love-with-another-man_ thing out- Castiel had thoughts of his own to keep him occupied. Dean Winchester being in love with him was certainly the first and foremost. There was also the revelation that he was now a hunter in his own right. He wasn't useless any more, he would not be the Winchesters' charity project. He could hunt. He could kill. It was dark outside now.

"Next exit. That's where we're meeting Sam."

They left the freeway and plunged into the darkness of a residential street. Houses, all identical, passed through the glow of the headlights. A few of the windows were lighted, providing windows into strange domestic scenes. A man and woman curled together on a sofa in front of a television, at a dinning room table, a girl looked between a large book and a laptop. Dean, silhouetted against these scenes, was the starkest contrast Castiel had ever seen. Normality and the man who had never known it, and never would.

"Here." Dean's announcement was unnecessary, even at a great distance Castiel could make out Sam's mountainous form in the parking lot. He walked out to meet them when they parked.

"Dean!" He greeted his brother first with a clap on the shoulder. The elder brother reciprocated.

"Sam." Castiel waved at the other man.

"Oh my God, Cas, you look awful! Sorry" He added as an afterthought. "I'm glad you're okay." Dean looked between his brother and Castiel with an expression not quite visible in the darkness.

Together, the three of them crossed the darkened parking lot to the motel office.

"Two rooms," Dean said, Sam looked confused.

"Will that be two queens or…"

"Yeah."

At this Sam opened his mouth to protest. He turned to Cas, "Wait, are you two- are you-"

"Shut up Sammy." Dan said, tossing his brother the key to one of the rooms.

"Wait, but- if you two are- then how-"

"Dean and I are sharing a bed now." Castiel confirmed. "We're bedfellows."

The noise Dean made could hardly be called human. "Cas," he moaned as Sam broke down in giggles. "I said shut up. Come on Cas, we'll talk about this in the morning."

That night, Dean and Cas did share a bed, though Dean said that if Cas ever did something like that again he'd be back on the couch like _that_. They slept soundly, at least Castiel did, lulled to sleep by the sound of Dean's breathing. Sam did not sleep quite so well but rather laid awake, trying to look for any clues that may have pointed to this. After some thought he realized that he probably should have seen it coming. But still! Booking him a separate room? What exactly did Dean and Cas need to _get a room_ for? Did he want to know? No. No he didn't.

The next day they would head back to the bunker. Sam would interrogate Castiel about all that happened in his time alone. After hearing the story he apologized again. _For what? _For letting him go, Sam supposed. Dean answered most of Sam's questions with profanities, or by turning up his music. He needed time to think. That was alright. No one was going anywhere, and there was time to think.

**Author's Note**: This has been the final chapter of a Hungry Silence. I know it doesn't exactly fit the tone of the rest of he story, but I've been doing my assigned reading and now I'm fed up with bleak endings. I did take a week-long hiatus to re-adjust and get ready for school. Also to write the Hospital scene which I felt the need to inflict upon you. I will definitely write more, I'll always be open to prompts or suggestions, so never hesitate there. As always, I hope you will review. Thank you for reading all this! I came into this very new, I still am very new, but I think, through this story and those that I've been reading, I've really got the hang of it now. It's been very educational.

-Until we meet again!


End file.
